


Prize of the Dirty World

by Bofur1



Series: Pound, Pound, Far Underground [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Angst and Romance, Drunken Confessions, Dwarves Being Awesome, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Falling In Love, Flirting, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mischief, Rough Kissing, Shenanigans, Stealing, Strangers, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:04:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Bofur1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>She was...gorgeous. That was the first word that came to Fori’s mind and it made his heart race. He’d not used the word ‘gorgeous’ for any person before, simply their belongings that eventually became his. Now Fori was sure he had his priorities all wrong when it came to labeling.<em></em></em>
</p><p>Only the Brothers Ri know how their parents, Fori and Jalane, met and married. It's quite a strange tale, filled with thieving, violence, gifts, imprisonment, and eventually mugs of ale. The mugs of ale, as usual, being the important part.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fori and Jalane meet!

_A clot, that’s what you are,_ Fori berated himself as he slid down against the front door. _You were supposed to slip the purse and escape with it._ _‘Escape with it’ bein’ the operative words!_

He’d gotten a nice purse from someone’s pocket in the market only a few hours earlier. The fat merchant who owned it had been oblivious, chatting with someone he knew, and Fori had simply nicked it from his pocket. Then the merchant had turned slightly on his wheeled chair, allowing Fori a view of the person he was speaking with.

She was... _gorgeous_. That was the first word that came to Fori’s mind and it made his heart race. He’d not used the word ‘gorgeous’ for any person before, simply their belongings that eventually became his. Now Fori was sure he had his priorities all wrong when it came to labeling.

The Dwarrowdam was unlike any he’d ever seen. The first thing he examined, as was natural for a Dwarf, was the hair. Her sorrel-brown beard was layered in a beaded curtain, the ends brushing over her chest. As for her hair, the only adornment was a golden thread woven through the braid behind her left ear. The rest tumbled freely in a glossy, shimmering wave down her back.

She seemed to sense his presence and her topaz-brown eyes met his. The thief was paralyzed. The Dwarf woman’s gaze held a home, pervading him with hope and dread, warmth and cold in an undying, mesmeric burn.

Fori stood there behind the merchant, his jaw and the purse falling at the same time. The thud and jingle of coinage against the cobblestones alerted the merchant to foul play. He whirled and shouted, “Oi! I know you, crook!”

Just as he was shaking off his first daze, Fori found his face being slammed into the wall at the merchant’s back, shocking him into another. The woman was startled by the merchant’s violence.

“Haylan, what are you—?!”

The merchant unwound a rope to bind Fori’s hands. “I’m saving the Guard Captain the trouble of...”

Fori was only partly conscious and therefore didn’t catch the rest of the sentence. Summoning up his lethargy, enslaving it to his will, he converted it into energy and kicked Haylan’s feet out from under him.  Swiftly he rolled out of the way, clearing the merchant’s fall, and staggered to his feet. The knife up his right sleeve made easy work of the rope and he was about to leave when someone grabbed his arm and twisted it rather painfully.

“You’re going to the guards,” the Dwarf woman snapped.

Fori glanced over his shoulder at her with a wince. “Mind...mind loosenin’ your hold a bit?” At her deepening glare he muttered, “I didn’t do much damage.”

“You stole a purse from my brother!”

Fori managed to spin out of her hold and instead caught her in his. Slipping an arm round the small of her back, he bumped foreheads with her and whispered slyly, “Wish I could steal _you_ from him, instead.”

Then he bolted off into the falling dusk, head spinning with both his injury and his daring.

Now Fori sat on the porch of a makeshift ‘homeless shelter’ in the Slums, rubbing his hemorrhaging nose on the sleeve of his tunic and berating himself for losing the prize.

Whether he meant the purse or the girl, only he knew.

~*~

Jalane sat silently at the dinner table, listening to her brother Haylan rant to their parents about the thief who tried to lift his money.

“...He got away,” Haylan seethed, gingerly rubbing the bruises on his face from his earlier fall. “But he won’t next time!”

“You need to report him,” their mother warned. “Let the authorities handle it.”

“I’ll do it,” Jalane spoke up. At her family’s questioning glances, she explained, “The reporting, I mean. I’ll go after dinner. You can go to bed without me; I might stay out.”

She did, indeed, put on her cloak and leave the house after the plates were cleared, but she didn’t head for the guard house. Instead she began walking slowly downtown. Every sense in her spoke against it, but she wanted to see if her thief could be found in the Slums.

 _Her_ thief?!

The sheer shock of her own thoughts caused Jalane to halt. What was she doing, thinking fondly of the Dwarf who tried to steal from her kin?

 _It’s not fondness_ , she tried to tell herself hastily. _Just...admiration_.

She’d been...surprised by him, that was certain. The pickpocket had been completely silent, invisible, for a good while. And his looks didn’t really hurt either. In the habit of a single woman, Jalane had quickly looked him up and down.

His auburn beard was segmented into three thick braids that hung against the curves of his throat, secured with mismatching silver clasps that he’d likely stolen from different owners. His hair was neatly drawn into three peaks that joined in a tail against his neck. The two other braids she saw were tight and thin, pulled up over his forehead, and Jalane realized with astonishment that it was hair from his eyebrows.

Beneath those brows Jalane found another shock—his eyes. The heart of the wild glistened in their glacier-blue depths, reflecting both burden and freedom in a pure, cold light.

He was _riveting_. That was (partially) why Jalane had grabbed him when he tried to leave. Then when he had hugged her to him, her heart jumped into her throat. She cursed herself later for blinking because when she did he had vanished.

With a wistful sigh, Jalane sped up once more. After steady walking, Jalane noticed the scenery and atmosphere changing, darkening. Families dining in their homes became families sitting homeless on the street, bickering over half a loaf of bread.

Jalane shivered slightly as she noticed the stares of those she passed. The rich and the poor eyed each other with disdain, Jalane knew, but she had rarely been the recipient of such emotions. Hastily she focused her mind on her task: finding her thief, so she could find out who exactly he was.

To her delight, Jalane eventually caught sight of him. He was sitting in front of a door, hunched over something he held in his hands. She started toward him, but someone gripped her arm.

“Didn’t know we had a new girl,” a brusque voice declared. Jalane turned to find a mangy...to be honest, Jalane wasn’t sure what race they were, due to their hunch. She didn’t know if they were male or female either; in the dark it was hard to tell.

“I don’t live here,” Jalane protested hastily. “I came looking for someone.”

“Well, dear, before you go you can give me those clothes. I’ve been looking for a new outfit for a long time and yours looks just right.”

“It’s mine,” Jalane answered sharply upon realizing it was a female of Man. “Let me go!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fori solves the problem and all Jalane wants is his name.

Fori studied his nose thoughtfully in the reflection of his knife blade. _Good, stopped bleedin’_ , he noticed with a smile. It disappeared just as quickly as it surfaced when he heard a yell from some yards away.

“Let me go!”

He knew that voice...Fori’s head lifted and he peered warily into the darkness. His eyes widened ever so slightly when he recognized the Dwarrowdam swiftly being detained on the other side of the street.

“Your hair would sell nicely, too,” an older voice—another he recognized—continued. “You’ve got so much...it’d get some bread or maybe men for my daughters. What d’you think, girls? She’ll sell?”

Fori rose to his feet as three younger women emerged from the shadows. His heart started a double-time dance as he saw that one thing all Dwarves abhorred: shears.

“Oh, yes,” one of them laughed, her voice like the hiss of a serpent. “A prize, that is.” She and her sisters pounced, digging fingers into Jalane’s hair.

“Keep off!” Jalane bellowed, thrashing. One of the sisters flew off with the momentum of her spin, but Jalane still had the other two and their mother to deal with. The fight leapt to a climax, filling the slums with rabid screams and a huge cloud of dust.

An inexplicable fury gave Fori adrenaline. He could have used it as speed to get across the street, but instead he focused it to his arm. Jalane found herself pinned against the ground by the Humans’ weight. The shears were about to chomp into her beard when Fori hurled his knife. It soared through the air, its blade biting the earth between the mother’s fanned fingers. Fori’s ominous voice rose from the dark, soft and deep.

“Kragga.”

Kragga, the eldest woman, jerked her head up. Her face turned coy, a thin veil for her apprehension. “B-Blade-Driver...what’s the handsomest assassin of the Slums doing, concerning himself with this rat?”

“She’s with me,” Fori snapped. He saw the question in Jalane’s eyes, and then the relief when the statement caused the four hags to scramble off of her.

“Apologies,” Kragga exclaimed nervously, bobbing a quick bow. “You...you’re not angry, are you, Master Voriul?”

“First you try to steal my cloak, then this. Tonight was your second strike. Next strike’ll be my blade in your throat,” Fori announced tightly as he strode over to help Jalane up.

Kragga audibly swallowed hard as she and her brood backed away into the darkness.

“You alright?” Fori asked, looking Jalane over with a critical eye.

“Fine,” Jalane assured him, rushing on to a different subject. “Before something else happens, what’s your name?”

Fori felt a twinge of reluctance before he gave in and told her. “Fori, son of Vori.”

“Jalane, daughter of Mayfen,” Jalane replied with a smile. “I owe you a debt now.”

“It’s nothin’,” Fori waved her statement off. “Needed to repay you for lettin’ me escape earlier.”

Jalane flushed. “I didn’t mean to,” she stammered.

Fori laughed. “I know you didn’t. Just can’t resist my charm, can you?” He leaned toward her, grinning lazily.

It almost seemed as though she would lean in too and give him what he wanted, but her eyes suddenly went wide with alarm and she pushed him away. He was more than a little insulted.

“What?”

“That Woman said you’re an assassin, and I saw what you did with that knife,” Jalane announced tensely, backing up.

“Oi, if I was goin’ to kill you I would have done it by now!” It was supposed to be a reassurance, but she simply seemed all the more disturbed and quickened her pace backward. She bumped another Dwarf and whirled, ready to fight for her clothes again, but the stranger held up his hands.

“Apologies,” he rumbled politely.

Jalane nodded and stepped around him, making fast work of the long street. Fori stared after her, certain that his expression was that of a crestfallen child.

“Aw,” the larger Dwarf sighed, his gaze filled with sympathy. “I expect she was an interest for you, lad?”

Fori broke off his stare and cleared his throat. “Um...yeh, Ardofir, she was.”

Ardofir shook his head and slapped a huge hand on Fori’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, lad. You’re not the only lovesick idiot in the Slums.”

Fori’s shoulder and heart were left aching after Ardofir left. _Was that supposed to be comforting?_

“In this place, it’s all I’m goin’ to get,” he muttered darkly as he stalked toward the knife in the ground. Not even bothering to blow off the dust, Fori drew a thin cut on his forearm and impassively watched tiny beads of blood surface.

~*~

Jalane entered her house with her heart in her stomach and a lump in her throat. An assassin was something completely different than a simple thief. This was the thought she had hammered into her head the entire walk home.

When she reached her bedroom, Jalane swiftly changed into her nightclothes and then leapt into bed, not even bothering to undo her braids. She wanted to sleep, wanted to wake up with no memory of her— _the_ handsome thief— _assassin_.

After what seemed an eternity, she rose back up and lit the candle on her nightstand so she could see. Retrieving a worn leather book from the nightstand drawer, she wondered if she dare waste a page of it.

It wouldn’t be a waste, she decided reluctantly, grabbing a quill and an inkpot. Jalane’s hair fell like a curtain over the diary page as she made dark, bold strokes with her quill.

The portrait was finished soon enough and Jalane realized that already she had Fori disturbingly memorized.

“How could I not? He was leaning right in my face,” she tried to comfort herself. Groaning, she shook her head in self-loathing. “And I almost...”

As she stared down at the sketch, Jalane found herself almost wishing that she could rewind time. If she could, Jalane was sure, she would give in to Fori’s unspoken request and kiss him. She would probably enjoy it, too, as much as she hated to admit it.

Jalane’s mind was suddenly erupting with fantasies about adventures with Fori, what fun they would be. For the next hour she paced, switching between earnest longing for him to berating herself for it.

_What is wrong with you? You only met him today and already you’re thinking about marriage! It’s disturbing and indecent!_

_But he seems so kind...I couldn’t ever imagine him as an assassin._

_He lives in the Slums. Anyone can turn into anything there_.

_Who knew that love could happen so fast?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fori speaks in code with his mates and then drops in on Jalane's house at night in disguise...way to be creepy.

The next day came with a familiar routine. Pulling his hair into another new style, Fori plundered the innocent without ever showing his face. The hours passed in silence and Fori let them. Late that night he returned to the shelter step and found it taken. After a short brawl Fori curled up on the porch, rubbing at the new blood on the stone, and pulled out his ‘swag bag’.

Five purses, two pairs of earrings, a lantern, a necklace, and a gold hairpin set with three tiny diamonds. Fori paused, strumming the pin against the knuckles of his other hand.

There was someone he knew who would love this hairpin.

“No,” he told himself sharply. “She’s scared of you; that’s not happenin’!” With a growl, he shoved the pin back into the depths of the sack and covered his head with his cloak. Despite how tired he was, he couldn’t force his eyes closed. Instead he stared at his bag, thinking of her.

 _Oh, fine. Fine!_ With a growl he jerked himself to his feet with the bag and his cloak in hand. She probably wouldn’t be that hard to find, he thought to himself. All he had to do was ask about for her father Mayfen’s house. First, however, he needed to clean himself up a bit. Perhaps if he looked more respectable he’d get a chance to look around the dwelling of the lovely lady.

Fori sought about for a bucket of water to wash his face. When he found one, he gingerly tapped its frozen surface.

“Oh, sod it,” he grumbled. “Who cares if I look like a beggar—?” He stopped and considered, eventually ending up with a grin on his face. “Now _that’s_ an idea...” He looked down, poking and pulling at his clothing and making sure he looked ragged enough to hide the dozen or so knives on his person.

“Hey, Cellanar,” he called to a familiar face passing. “Your fellows ever heard of a Mayfen diamond over in the Goods?”

Cellanar stopped, turning his empty eye socket toward Fori’s voice. “Aye,” he said deliberately, speaking in the same code Fori had initiated. “Hear they’re selling it by the hill leading down to the river.”

“Thanks, mate!” Fori grinned, slapping Cellanar on the arm as he walked by. “I plan on gettin’ one for my wife.”

“Really?” Now that Fori was walking by, Cellanar could fix him with his good right eye. “Gettin’ one for your wife or gettin’ one _as_ your wife?”

Fori just smiled wider. “Might take a while, but I trust you and Ardofir’ll take care of things around here?”

“Always,” Cellanar agreed.

Fori nodded approval and disappeared down the street.

~*~

Jalane startled when a knock came at the front door. “Who on earth...?” she muttered to herself, shutting her sketchbook and padding softly down the hall with a lantern. Fortunately the knock hadn’t awoken the rest of her family.

When the door opened, she saw a hunched little form sitting on the step. The person reminded Jalane of the old hag Kragga and she leapt back, wondering in horror if she had somehow found her way here to cut off her hair. However, a voice called after her from within the hood.

“P-Penny fer food, mistress? Or...mebbe jus’ sum food by isself?” The words stopped Jalane cold. The voice was weary with knowledge of the world yet filled with such a hope that Jalane found herself nodding. Suddenly she didn’t know if the beggar was blind and spoke.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Stay right there, I’ll be back with something for you.” Quickly she strode to the kitchen and threw together a plate of apple slices and buttered bread. “Here you are,” she murmured as she reappeared and held the plate out to the pauper.

“Thanks ever so much,” was the slow reply. A trembling hand appeared from the darkness of the cloak and took the edge of the plate, drawing it beneath the hood. Jalane watched anxiously as the food disappeared and the plate slid to the floor.

“Did that satisfy you?”

The stranger’s head lifted with much more energy than Jalane had thought within him. “Not quite,” a suddenly very familiar voice disagreed. “It’s my oath that I won’t be satisfied until I’ve got my family braid in your hair!” He leapt up, shaking off his hood.

“Fori!” Jalane gasped, backing up. She turned, but again his voice stopped her.

“Don’t run again.” Fori’s voice was deeper, more gruff than usual. “I came here to talk, nothin’ more.”

Jalane slowly turned, swallowing hard. “Why are you here?”

“As I said,” Fori repeated, “I won’t be satisfied until my braid is in your hair. But since I expect that won’t come for a while, have this in the time bein’.” His hand, no longer trembling, extended and Jalane saw something glittering in his palm.

“You...did you steal that?” Jalane demanded.

Fori smirked. “Yeh, just for you. Thought it’d be pretty on you.” Jalane hesitated and Fori’s smile faded, his voice turning harsh again as he snapped, “Do you want it or not? I don’t want to stand here all night with my arm out.”

Jalane quickly reached forward and took the golden hairpin from him. Before she could withdraw her hand, Fori’s closed around hers and gave a gentle squeeze. “Remember my oath and...well, consider what changes you might want to make to the ones of marriage. I’ve always found them kinda stuffy, you understand?”

A sudden gust of wind made the house creak and Jalane looked up. When she lowered her eyes once more, Fori was gone. Jalane shuddered. How on earth did he always do that?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fori gets and gives a gift and Haylan offers to get his sister a boyfriend.

Four nights later, misty dreams poked at Fori’s sleeping mind and eventually gave him an itch in his feet that woke him up and wouldn’t be suppressed. He needed to visit Jalane and remind her of his offer. But first he had to get some kind of other gift.

He gnawed on his lower lip apprehensively. He had seen the uncertainty in her eyes as she’d taken what he’d stolen. Something stuck in the back of his throat when he realized exactly what he needed to do to gain some of her trust.

He had to go out and _buy_ something. Fori groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. The thought itself was almost sickening, but these past days he’d started to get desperate. Digging into his bag of plunder, Fori drew out a pouch of coins and shuffled down the street toward the Markets.

Though it was only early morning, some of the stalls were already opening. Fori scanned them with minimal interest, passing by and swiping a piece of merchandise if he felt too idle. Nothing seemed to jump out at him for a gift until he found that one thing he always found interesting: knives.

Fori thought back to Jalane’s encounter with Kragga, the way she had struggled fruitlessly against the witch’s hold, and he nodded slowly. That was the way to go. It was easy enough for him to go up to the counter, but then he had to _point out_ the one he wanted to the expectant merchant.

When he held it in his hands, he examined the sheath closely and then drew the blade. Testing its weight, he turned his back on the merchant and hurled the knife into a post fifty paces away.

“Hey!” the merchant cried. “That’s—”

“Mine now,” Fori finished his sentence with a cheery grin. He handed him the pouch of coins. “It’s a gift, so wrap it up.”

“I’m not going to fetch it,” the merchant snorted in disgust. Fori’s eyes narrowed.

“Fine, then.” He ran to the post, drew out the knife and hurled it back at the merchant. It arced through the air and hit the counter near the horrified merchant’s elbow. “Is that still too much of a reach for you?” Fori called, laughing when the merchant glared at him.

Soon enough he returned to the Slums with the package under his arm. Cellanar and Ardofir watched him pull out a spare change of clothing and eye it critically. Fori noticed their eyes as he pulled off the dusty shirt he wore presently.

“What?” he snapped.

Ardofir sighed. “Your underlings are getting restless, Blade-Driver. Saying they don’t have anything to do for you anymore.”

Fori whirled at that even as he pulled on the cleaner shirt. “Well, then, you can give ’em this message from me: if they didn’t have anything to do for me anymore, they wouldn’t be alive anymore.” As Ardofir turned to walk away, Fori rolled his eyes and called after him, “Tell them to have a night on Oreeve’s girls.”

Ardofir’s laughter echoed for many a yard as he ran to the Underground entrance with much more enthusiasm. Fori smiled and shook his head.

~*~

“Where did you get that?”

Jalane looked up at her brother’s voice. “Haylan,” she greeted him, keeping her voice level.

“That hairpin,” Haylan insisted, stepping forward to study it closely. “Where’s it from?”

“I got it in the market while I was out that one night last week,” Jalane lied with a thin smile.

Haylan knew that he wouldn’t get any other explanation from her and instead implored, “Jalane, I’m worried about you. You’ve seemed distant lately.”

Jalane’s eyebrows rose. “Distant? No, I’ve just been...contemplative.”

“What are you contemplating?”

“Just...life,” Jalane sighed, straightening the pin in her hair. “I wonder what the future holds. Will I live even to see tomorrow? Will I have wealth? Prosperity?” She paused for half a second before blurting out, “Marriage? Children?”

“Is that what you want?” Haylan asked in surprise. “I can put you in touch with people. I have many a friend who—”

A sharp rapping on the outside of the house caught the siblings’ attention. “I’ll get it,” Haylan announced, striding toward the door. When he opened it, Jalane bit back a gasp. By drawing it, she had learned every inch of that face, no matter what shape the hair around it took.

“G’day,” Fori said with a long and disguising drawl. “Delivery fer the daughter of Mayfen.”

“Jalane, it’s for you,” Haylan stated unnecessarily. Jalane nodded and stalked forward, snatching the package from the thief’s hands. Tearing open the packaging, she found herself gaping at a silver-handled dagger. Haylan came to peer over her shoulder and gasped.

“Who ordered this for my sister?” Haylan demanded of the ‘delivery man’.

Fori shrugged and leaned against the doorframe. “T’was given t’ me anonymously, mister.” Leaning forward, he added, “Mighty fine, though, ain’t it? Whoever it was even left the packaging on; must be brand new.”

Jalane’s wide eyes met his and she felt something dig into her stomach. He had gone out and bought this for her?

“Why?” she whispered. Haylan blinked at her.

“Why what?” he asked.

“Why would...somebody...give me this?”

Fori shrugged again. “Maybe it’s a suitor or somethin’, wants you to be safe until he can get a braid in your hair.” He smirked and Jalane’s heartbeat quickened as she suddenly realized just how handsome he was when he smiled. She remembered her daydreams of adventures with him and would have taken a step forward if Haylan hadn’t put a hand on her shoulder.

“Some suitor who won’t show his face is no good for my sister,” he declared.

Fori’s braided eyebrows lifted. “Maybe he already has. Look around, maybe he’ll pop up.” He straightened with a jaunty salute. “I gotta be off. Enjoy the dagger, missus.”

Jalane couldn’t believe the nerve of him. He had just openly dared Haylan to find _him_ —wait, had he called her ‘missus’?! But only... _married_ women were called that.

 _By Mahal,_ Jalane thought in wonder. _He already considers us a done deal!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Fori had a theme song, I would have to say it'd be "Why Should I Worry" from Oliver and Company. Seriously, this Dwarf is 'street savoir faire' personified. XD


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fori tries to escape a cameo character(!) and fails, tries to escape again and fails again, and Jalane finds out and panics. Cor.

Another four days passed and Fori wondered if he had scared Jalane further by giving her the dagger. Again he’d had no word from her and again he was getting desperate. He knew he couldn’t risk going to her house again, so he refocused his desperation into his thieving.

“Should’a known better,” one of the Royal Guards snarled, as though hearing Fori’s thoughts. “You’re going down.”

“As if,” Fori snorted, taking off into the sunlight. The Guards followed persistently. Fori ducked as spears whistled overhead, snickering. “Y’know, you might have better luck catching crooks if you use something better than sticks!” he called, running into the chaos of the market.

“Hey, never mind. Just let him go,” Fori heard one of the guards command as he grabbed his comrade’s arm.

“But—!”

“No buts,” the first said sternly. “The Captain wants us at our posts. We’ll catch him later.”

“No, you won’t!” Fori called over his shoulder, only to have a large hand close around his throat. He gagged as a burly, auburn-maned Dwarf lifted him off the ground by his neck. He kicked vigorously, but only at the air.

“No need to catch him later; I’ve got him now!” the stranger called.

The Guards’ eyes widened and their cheeks went red as they rushed forward. “Erm, Treasurer Gróin, if you would give the thief to us,” one of them stammered. “It wouldn’t...look good for us with your brother if he saw you doing our job for us.”

Gróin laughed. “No, it wouldn’t, would it?” So saying, he shoved Fori into the arms of the Guards, who immediately chained his hands and began patting him down.

“Quite a lot of knives you’ve got there,” Gróin commented as he watched the Guards withdraw the weapons. “What are all those for?”

“Obvious,” Fori spat. “People admire them and then I show my hand with them! I—” One of the Guards cut off his sentence by kneeing him in the gut. Coughing, Fori glared up at the Treasurer.

“Got a brother, have you?” Fori barked as he was hauled away. “You won’t for long!”

“You’ll meet him soon enough,” Gróin replied calmly. “He’s Captain of the Guard.”

Fori sighed as the Guards dragged him along the cobblestones. Quick as a flash, he reached toward the cord of the pendant at his neck—only it wasn’t a pendant. Slashing both of the other Dwarves with one swing of the unexpected knife, Fori took off, knocking over crates and stalls to block the path behind him.

Fori had nearly escaped when an arm caught his face with a sickening crack. He dropped the knife and tumbled onto his back, staring with wide eyes up at the merchant who had arm-barred him.

“Thank you, sir!” one of the Guards sighed for the second time.

“Oh, anything to serve my country,” Haylan purred. “This thief has actually stolen from me before.”

 _Just my luck that I run into him when I wear the same hairdo as the day I stole from him,_ Fori thought dazedly.

“You’re trickier than I thought,” the second Guard announced, glowering down at the blood-covered thief. “Can’t take any chances.”

Fori’s obscene curse of answer failed as a boot slammed into his face.

~*~

“I helped catch a thief today!” Haylan boomed cheerily as soon as he stepped in the door.

Jalane and her parents looked up. “Did you now?” Mayfen replied, curling a strand of his beard around one finger.

“Yes! You remember that one who tried to steal from me last week? Well, he was foolish enough to turn up again and I stopped him!” Haylan beamed as his parents congratulated him, but frowned when he saw Jalane’s face drain of color. “Sister?”

“Did you hurt him?” Jalane asked anxiously.

Haylan’s brow furrowed. “He took a boot from the Guards, nothing more. Why would you care?”

“I’ve recently been researching pacifism,” Jalane mumbled as she stood and made her way to her room. Once she was behind a closed door, she let the panic claim her. Quiet whimpers racked her body as she paced back and forth. Oh, Fori...

She had to help him—but how?!

Jalane had to go to someone, someone he might know, but who could that be? Jalane suddenly remembered a Dwarf of the Slums who hadn’t even seemed remotely interested in harming her. Who was he? Would he help?

Seizing her cloak and, after a hesitation, the dagger Fori had given her, Jalane opened the window and left that way. Again she watched the scenery change, only this time it flew by, as she was running as fast as she could to the Slums.

Where was he? Where was that stranger? Jalane stared about with wild eyes and practically screamed with relief when she saw him.

“Hey! You!”

The giant Dwarf turned and Jalane almost hugged him. “You...are you a friend of Fori, son of Vori?” she demanded.

“Yes,” was the swift reply. “What’s he gotten into this time?”

“He’s been imprisoned and you have to help me get him out!” Jalane cried. The Dwarf leaned in with narrowed eyes.

“You...I’ve seen you before. You’re Fori’s girl.”

“What?! N-No,” Jalane stammered. She flushed at his dubious eyebrow, but he didn’t press the matter.

“So. You’re going to break him out?”

“I can’t do it alone,” Jalane replied unhappily. “Can you help?”

“No.”

“What?!”

“No, I can’t. I don’t have time, as I’m holding up what Fori’s got running here,” the other Dwarf replied slowly, “but I know one who does have time.” He beckoned for her to follow and strode off.

Hard-pressed to keep up, Jalane panted, “What’s this person’s name?”

“Tras.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fori tries to escape AGAIN and Jalane meets someone.

Even half-conscious, Fori recognized the taste of blood. He tried to lift his hand to find the cause of the bleeding, but the tightening of a cuff on his wrist stopped him. With a gasp he sat up and cast a foul aspersion on Mahal’s name as his head pounded. Where was—oh.

Jail, his home away from home. Fori patted the familiar frozen floor almost lovingly and then startled as someone approached the cage door.

“Fori, son of Vori,” a quiet voice sighed. Fori knew that wasn’t the tone of a Captain.

“What,” Fori growled, “the Captain don’t have time to deal with me?”

“Surprisingly, no,” the Guard replied just as sarcastically. “I’ve been sent to interrogate you.”

“Why? S’not like I murdered somebody.” As he spoke, Fori strained against the chains that held his wrists to the wall.

“Perhaps not this time, but I want to know what other crimes you’ve committed in the past,” was the calm retort.

Fori burst out laughing. “You know my name but not my crimes? You must be a fledging Guard or somethin’!”

“I’m a lieutenant!” the Guard barked.

“Oohh, sounds real special,” Fori said in mocking awe as he stood. “Now, Lieutenant, let’s get the interrogation over with.” Perhaps he could lure the Guard and his keys closer if he riled him up. What always made a Guard tick? Slights to his honor, Fori recalled with a sneer. Spreading his arms wide, he questioned, “I’m sure you’ve been given permission to use all necessary force for answers?”

“No,” the lieutenant replied. “I’m going to conduct this peacefully.”

“You probably won’t want to after I do this,” Fori laughed, proceeding to make one of the most vulgar, affronting iglishmêk gestures at him. To his glee, the Guard actually fell for it, flinging the cage door open with an enraged roar.

“Alright, then, let’s see what you’ve got!” Fori shifted his weight back and forth, stretching for the fight. “Come and get me!” As soon as the Guard was within reach, Fori spat on his face.

That got him really mad, Fori noticed with a smile that turned to a wince as he got a solid kick to the abdomen that slammed him against the stone wall. The Guard put him on the floor with another kick and a swift shot to his mouth.

Fori spat a gush of blood and leapt back up, wrapping his legs around the lieutenant’s waist and pulling him in for a cracking head-butt. Then, like a spider with its prey, he spun the dazed lieutenant around and crossed his arms over his head, jerking the chains taut against his throat.

“I will snap your neck right here,” Fori hissed in his ear. The Guard stood stiffly with his back to Fori’s chest, breathing hard. Keeping one chain around the lieutenant’s throat while reaching toward the man’s belt with the other, Fori snatched up the keys he found there. Then something small and sharp hit his arm from a distance...The last he heard was the other Guard’s rebukes of the lieutenant.

~*~

“Tras, got an upper crust here who wants to talk to you. The Blade got bought,” the massive Dwarf called, poking his head into a makeshift tent.

Jalane was taken aback by the way he spoke of her, but she edged closer to his elbow nonetheless when glittering green eyes squinted at her from the darkness.

“Right. Leave her to me, eh?”

A silent nod and then Jalane found herself prodded into the tent toward the eyes. She stood there, clasping her hands in front of her.

“So, you’re Tras?” she asked anxiously.

“Yep.”

“Well, I need your help. My friend Fori—”

“Has been imprisoned, right?”

Jalane blinked in confusion. “How did you—?”

“‘The Blade got bought’,” Tras repeated what the other Dwarf had said. “Fori’s name here: Blade-Driver. He got ‘bought’—imprisoned. And let me guess, you want me to break him out?”

Jalane nodded hesitantly. The green eyes floated upward in the darkness as their owner stood.

“Why would you want me to do that? I know all of Fori’s friends and I haven’t seen you before. Unless—” Jalane found herself on her back with Tras on top of her, a dagger to her throat. “—you want to kill him.”

“No!” Jalane barked, pulling her own knife and shoving it against his throat. “Don’t even suggest it!”

Tras’s mouth twitched into a thin smile. “Good girl. Just had to make sure you weren’t a plugger.”

“A what?! And how do you know I’m not?” Jalane demanded.

“A plugger, clipper, assassin, call it whatever you like.” Tras laughed as he pulled the both of them off the ground. “I know that’s not what you are because you’re holding your weapon completely wrong. Now, down to business. You want me to break out Blade-Driver?”

“Yes,” Jalane snapped as she sheathed her weapon and tucked it into the folds of her dress. “But I want you to do it without hurting anyone.”

Tras shook his head. “You may want it done that way— _I_ may want it done that way, but the Guards won’t. I’m a wanted man, lady.”

“...Without hurting anyone much,” Jalane revised reluctantly.

Tras grinned devilishly. “Aye. That I can do.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rescue and (very loopy, in Fori's case) reunion!

Fori stirred from heavy, drug-induced unconsciousness and wondered sluggishly, _How many hours…?_ The feel of the floor was different. Had he been moved? His whole body felt bruised and his left arm was benumbed. Fori didn’t remember why.

Blinking to clear his fuzzy vision, Fori brought himself up off his back and ended up falling forward on his stomach, still too delirious to keep himself upright. His arms ached painfully, but he brought them up to pillow his head on the floor.

No reason to try escaping again until he was more rational, he thought to himself. Closing his eyes, he tried to get his thoughts in order. He’d thieved something from someone important...was it one of the Guards? Yes, he believed so. Then some other Dwarf had caught him, he’d bolted moments later, and then a merchant had caught him. He’d tried to escape _again_ in the prison and had ended up here.

“Gettin’ caught three times in one day,” Fori mumbled, snuffling mournfully through his broken nose. “Need to shape up again.”

A muffled boom made him perk up a bit. Was it a prison fight? For the first time in his life, Fori hoped not. In this state he wouldn’t be able to hold off an attacker as he ought. Another thud echoed down the hall, much closer this time, and Fori gulped. Someone _was_ coming.

Unable to come fully to his feet, Fori pushed himself shakily into a sitting position and reached habitually for a knife, cursing softly when he remembered that all of them had been taken. The door burst open and he flinched, putting up his fists as protection.

“Hullo, Blade-Driver!” a voice boomed happily.

Fori lowered his fists in confusion and his eyes lit up with relief as he saw a crime-lord underling, one of his friend Tras’s group.

“Vegai...”

“Hey, Blade,” Tras greeted him, pushing his second-in-command aside to approach his friend and unlock his chains.

“I don’t know if you’re real or not,” Fori muttered as Tras helped him up. “If not, it’s a mighty good hallucination.”

“Well, it’s about to get better,” Tras replied, slinging Fori’s arm over his shoulder. “Your maid is waiting outside.”

Fori stared at him blankly and Tras shook his head. “Mahal, they really stoned you, didn’t they? Never mind, you’ll see soon enough.”

~*~

Jalane gave a glad cry as Tras burst out of the prison with Fori leaning against him. She didn’t have long to celebrate, however, as Tras barked, “Run! The Guards are on us!”

As soon as they were panting back in the Slums, Jalane threw her arms around Fori’s shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re safe!” she cried.

Fori nodded sluggishly, slowly patting her back. “Cor, yeah, great to be safe.”

Jalane pulled back to study him. His eyes were glazed, but he seemed happy to see her, which told Jalane he was mostly alright. When a ludicrous grin took over his face, however, she wasn’t as sure.

“You’re really pretty,” he announced all of a sudden. Jalane flushed, swallowing hard as she brushed a stray lock of auburn hair out of his face.

“Thank you,” the Dwarrowdam said stiffly. “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” Gently she pushed him down onto the step of his usual porch and pulled out a handkerchief.

“Before you start that,” Tras interrupted, “I want my pay.”

Jalane looked up at him over her shoulder. “Must I?” she asked reluctantly.

“Yep. You promised you would.”

“Very well,” Jalane sighed, reaching up and pulling out the pin from her hair. Tras held out a hand and she gave it to him, calling out as he started to walk away, “Just don’t...melt it down or anything.”

“Oh, no,” Tras replied without stopping. “I plan on giving it to a friend.”

When Jalane turned back to Fori, she saw his face was dark as his eyes followed Tras’s disappearing form. Jalane knelt and turned his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes.

“You can steal me another one,” Jalane told him seriously. Fori remained silent as she wet the handkerchief in a nearby bucket and began scrubbing the blood off his face.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Fori realizes the obvious, hurts himself, gets something back, and then is introduced to Jalane's Ama.

Fori knew he had been doing something wrong during this whole thing with Jalane and now he finally knew what it was: he’d never asked her on a date.

Now that’s what he wanted to do, but Fori was overwhelmed with worry at the moment. Even if he did ask, would she accept? She seemed to care about him, but not quite on that level. If he asked her too soon, he might ruin all the progress he had made. Still, when he examined the bandages Jalane had wrapped around all his injuries, the care with which they’d been placed, he thought, _What would be the harm?_

He couldn’t focus on anything else. It seemed everything he saw reminded him that he needed to ask her—everything, especially when he saw one of his fellow crime-lords, Oreeve, with a golden pin in her inky-black hair. As soon as he recognized it, Fori fished out a knife and slashed his arm with a snarl. Then, wiping the hot blood on his tunic, he shouted Oreeve’s name and stalked over.

“Yeah, what is it, Blade-Driver?” Oreeve asked casually, filing her nails on the edge of her axe.

“Where did you get that pin?” Fori growled.

Oreeve’s aquamarine-blue eyes lifted at that. “Tras gave it to me,” she answered slowly. “Why?”

Fori’s fists tightened. “No reason.”

“Oh,” Oreeve realized, pulling it out to study it thoughtfully. “Was it from that job he was telling me about?”

“...Yeh.”

“And why would you care about i?”

“I was...indirectly involved, as you can see by all the bandages.”

“Yeah,” the Dwarrowdam agreed with a short laugh. Her smile faded when she saw the stormy look on Fori’s face. “...Do you want it back?” she asked cautiously.

Fori gave a silent nod.

“What can you give me in return?”

“I can free you from your debt to me,” Fori snapped, bumping his boot against her ankle as a reminder. Oreeve winced a bit and Fori could see her recalling that rainy day a long time ago when he had kept her from getting caught at a robbery when she’d fallen from a window and broken her ankle. To be rescued by someone younger than her was a humiliating debt, and for her to be freed from it now...

“Take it,” Oreeve announced, pressing it into his palm. “Thanks for the trade.”

Fori nodded his own thanks and took off. As he settled down on what everyone, by now, knew was his claimed porch, he realized that with the pin in his pocket, he had enough courage. He was going to Jalane’s house, he decided, getting up as quickly as he’d sat down.

~*~

Jalane jumped when a sharp, disturbingly familiar rapping sounded at the door. “I’ll get it,” she told her mother, who was about to get up.

When she opened the door, she slapped a hand over her mouth to keep back her squeal of happiness. There stood Fori, with all his bandages and his crooked smile and the outlines of knives hiding beneath his tunic.

“Laney,” Fori greeted her with a bow. “I want you to come out with me.”

“What?!”

Jalane turned around and saw her mother’s incredulous expression. “Ah, Ama, this is my friend—” she stammered hastily.

“By his tone, he sounds like more than a friend,” her mother answered sternly.

Jalane fidgeted, but Fori was unfazed by her mother’s suspicion. “Hello, ma’am,” he called with a disarming smile. “Fori, son of Vori, at your service.”

“Charmed,” was the sarcastic response. “What do you want with my daughter?”

“Well, look at her, ma’am,” Fori said, gesturing to Jalane, who presently looked like she wanted to sink into the ground. “She’s a beauty. Surely she’s been approached by dashing young men before!”

“Yes,” Jalane’s mother growled, “but none of them have proven themselves worthy of her.”

“He saved my life,” Jalane blurted out. Fori gave her a look of alarm, but Jalane surged on. “When I was out that one night when I bought that pin and all that, a Woman of Man tried to cut off my hair. He saved me, Ama, and...I want to go with him.”

Ama met their hopeful expressions for a long moment and then sighed. “Home at ten, understand?”

Jalane nodded and practically ran out the door.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A great big fluffy fluff!

Fori wasn’t sure it was the greatest idea to take Jalane to a pub on their first date, but it was the only place he could think of. He made sure to take her to the best one around, The Lord’s Harp Tavern. Jalane’s eyebrows rose mischievously when she saw the familiar sign and Fori took her arm and led her inside.

The barman hailed Fori immediately, running around the bar and clasping his free arm enthusiastically. “Greetings, my friend! Who’s the lovely lady?”

“Mine, Herian,” Fori replied with a knowing smile. “Now let’s start the night, shall we?”

Fori sat next to Jalane at the bar and as Herian prepared their drinks, he said, “So...that thing you told your mother about going to the market and gettin’ that pin...is that what you’ve been tellin’ them all this time?”

Jalane nodded slowly. “I didn’t want Haylan to know I was bonding with you.”

“Oh, that’s what it’s been? Bonding?” Fori couldn’t help but let himself sound pleased.

Jalane flushed, as she tended to do in his presence, and Fori bumped her shoulder with his own. Herian slid their drinks over and Fori lifted his. “To...” He trailed off, not really knowing what to toast to.

“To every hour we have here until ten,” Jalane finished with a grin.

“Yeh, that sounds good,” Fori agreed, chuckling and taking a gulp of his ale. It was smooth and sweet, just like Jalane’s happy humming as she drank hers. “Hey,” Fori spoke up after a moment. “I was kinda loopy the other day and I never really thanked you for convincin’ Tras to get me.”

“It was noth—” Jalane started to say.

“It wasn’t nothin’,” Fori cut in. “If it weren’t for you, I probably would’ve stayed in there till I was old and gray.”

“If your friends didn’t get a clue and break you out,” Jalane reminded him. She studied him for a moment and added casually, “Even if you were old and gray by the time I saw you again, I’ll bet you’d still be cute.”

Fori paused, giving her a sideways glance. Jalane smiled innocently and called for another round.

~*~

Jalane wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but she eventually found herself sitting on Fori’s lap, playing with his hair.

“This is a great place,” she murmured as she wove and unwove an auburn strand that for some reason she found fixating.

Fori hummed absently in agreement, mostly concentrating on her face. Jalane beamed at his attention, bending her head to rest against his. When a fiddle somewhere in the background began to play a lively tune, she jerked it back up again.

“Let’s dance, shall we?” she suggested, jumping to her feet. She wobbled for a moment, but Fori put a hand at her back and steadied her. Jalane liked that feeling and made sure she was careful enough in her movements to keep him there.

Fori turned out to be a practiced dancer, much to Jalane’s delight. He spun her until she was laughing and barely able to see straight, although she hadn’t really been able to do that since her fifth ale anyway. Other couples laughed at their antics, but Jalane barely noticed them, instead focusing on keeping her feet under her as they leapt onto a table and began a jig there. Jalane laughed loud and long as the occupants of the table rescued their drinks and quickly relocated, and Fori could have split his face with the grin he wore.

At the end of the dance, Jalane threw her arms around Fori’s neck and proclaimed, “Fori, I think I love you.”

The other Dwarf’s eyes widened in disbelief and Jalane nodded, laughing giddily.

“Yes! I love you!” Then they were kissing vigorously and everyone else was clapping and making appreciative noises and Jalane couldn’t believe how amazing this night was.

“Can we get married?” Fori asked as they stumbled onto the floor.

“Yeah,” Jalane sighed happily. “Yeah, we can. But before all that oath stuff...” She sank down onto one of the barstools with her back to him. “Put your braid in my hair.”

Fori stood behind her, handling her hair like it was some kind of gold. When he held the tail of the braid, Fori whispered, “And this to keep it there.”

Jalane gasped as Fori fished her golden pin out of his pocket and slid it onto the braid. As he gently bumped heads with her, Jalane wondered how he had gotten it back. She considered asking and then decided that she was content. She didn’t need to know.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fori gets stressed out and Jalane is too drunk to notice.

Fori walked with his fiancée to the halfway point between her house and his porch. They stood in the street for a long moment, just staring at each other silently.

“I don’t want to let you go,” Fori sighed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I?” Jalane asked, surprised. Fori drew his hands away from hers and began pacing.

“Well...Laney, I’m not sure. What if your parents don’t approve?”

“Then we’ll elope,” Jalane answered simply.

“What if your brother recognizes me when I come over?”

“I’ll come to you.”

“But I can’t have you livin’ on the porch!” Fori protested.

Jalane shook her head. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” She left him with a peck on the cheek and a sudden, nerve-wracking weight on his shoulders that made him reach for his cutting knife.

“What’re you doin’?” he muttered to himself, staring at the blood-crusted blade. “Can’t cut tonight. You ought to be happy about this...You just need to think it through.”

As he walked, Fori pondered where he could get enough money for a place. He couldn’t make a heist big enough on his own and he couldn’t ask anyone else to help him because they would want some of the swag. Fori began running a mental list of those who owed him favors, but none of them owed him something for which he’d get a _house_...

~*~

Jalane greeted her mother and father cheerfully as she came in the door. They each opened their mouths to return the greeting, but nothing ended up coming out.

“What?” Jalane blinked in confusion at their shocked expressions.

“You’ve got a braid in your hair...” Adad sputtered.

“...A _marriage_ braid!” Ama ended up finishing.

“Oh, yeah!” Jalane nodded ecstatically, spinning around a few times before finishing, “I’m getting married! Hope you don’t mind.”

“Dear, are you drunk?” her father asked cautiously, rising to his feet and stretching toward her. Jalane stumbled away from his touch, nodding and then shaking her head.

“Nope! Just extremely happy. Wait till you meet him, Adad. He’s the kindest, handsomest man in Arda. He’s...he’s just brilliant. He’s stolen my heart, just like everything else!”

“What do you mean?” her mother demanded, narrowing her eyes at her.

Jalane laughed and waved a hand. “Fori could own the world if he wanted to! And now he’s chosen me to be his wife...Goodnight!”

Once she was flopped on her bed, Jalane twirled her braid between her fingers, rubbing the tail against her cheek. It may have been the circumstances, but to her it seemed like the smoothest, most well-braided lock of hair she had on her head. She pressed a kiss to the braid and then sat back up, grabbing her leather book and sketching out the memories before they faded with tomorrow’s hangover headache.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Fori does a favor for the future parents of two more cameo characters!

By now Fori had realized that all his best ideas came in his sleep. Therefore he curled up on his porch as soon as he got there, plunging into dreams of possibility. When he sat back up and found that it was still dark, Fori knew what could be done. He threw his cloak around his shoulders in a great whoosh, then went over and kicked the post on Tras’s tent.

“What?” Tras mumbled, glaring up at him with one eye.

“I’m about to make a hit,” Fori announced. “Guard my porch.”

“You’ve got it, Blade.”

Fori winked at his friend and disappeared into the night. He ran for some good yards before finding his target’s house. He wondered if he had made his decision too late, but when he saw the way the neighbor’s front yard seemed to huddle away from the target’s, he knew nothing had changed in these past months.

The neighbors had somehow gotten ahold of Fori’s name and had begged him to take care of the Man who was terrorizing them. Fori had thought it beneath him, seeing as the young miner and his wife didn’t have much to offer, but now...circumstances were different. What were the names of those Dwarves? Bromur and Joniver? Something like that.

Fori pulled on gloves and picked the lock on the window, slithering into the two-story house. He studied his surroundings with a critical eye and nodded thoughtfully, then crept his way up the stairs.

He found the Human snoring in his huge bed. Fori ran a hand over the edge of the blanket. Nice...unlike their owner. Fori wrinkled his nose, seeing that he was as ugly as he was cruel. Fori sighed and drew his knife. The Man’s life ended with only a choked gasp. Afterward Fori wiped his blade and began cleaning out the house.

The next morning Fori came out onto his new porch, feeling more rested than he had in years.

“That’s what I get for sleepin’ in a bed,” Fori said, stretching leisurely. He noticed Bromur and Joniver emerge onto theirs and chirped, “Hello! I know the job offer was a few months ago, but it’s done now!”

The couple gaped at him. “How can we ever—?!” the Dwarrowdam started.

“You can be my neighbors,” Fori replied with an easy smile. “Well, actually, no—our neighbors. Me and my wife.”

Their jubilant beams said all that was needed.

~*~

“I got a house,” Fori announced, peeking his head over Jalane’s window sill.

“Really?!” Jalane gaped at him. “That’s...that’s just...do you even know how amazing you are?” She reached down and poked his long nose.

“Yeh,” Fori answered. “Hey, have you...y’know, told your parents...?”

Jalane nodded. “They’re fine with it.” Fori gave her a doubtful look, but she simply smiled sweetly. “Really, Fori, the only problem we may have to deal with is—”

“Jalane!”

“—Haylan,” Jalane finished her sentence with a sigh. She turned and leaned her hip against the windowsill as the merchant stomped in.

“Sister, what have you gone and done?! Ama and Adad tell me you’re getting married to someone you just met on a date last night!” Haylan ranted.

“Actually, no,” Jalane replied, the utter expression of calm. “I met him three weeks ago. In fact, so did you.” She moved aside and gestured to the window.

“Hi there,” Fori snickered. He’d prepared for this by putting his hair into the same three peaks as the day he’d nicked his purse.

Haylan roared and started to lunge, but Jalane leapt in his way. “Don’t get near him!” she barked.

Haylan stared at her. “Jalane...he’s corrupted you. You’re dirty, of the world!”

“I’d rather be corrupted than stifled, then,” Jalane replied shortly, picking up a bag of belongings that she had already packed. With one glance back at her brother, Jalane jumped out the window and into Fori’s arms. Fori smirked up at Haylan and then sauntered away.

“So, Jalane, daughter of Mayfen, do you want me?” Fori asked out of the blue as he carried her.

“We’re doing this now?” Jalane asked in surprise. At his expectant look, she nodded. “Yes, I do. And do you, Fori, son of Vori, do you want me?”

“Yep! If I didn’t I would have let you fall out the window.” Fori grinned cheekily and added, “Guess we’re thief and prize, then, eh?”

Jalane laughed. “I guess so.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been ‘corrupted’ though, like Haylan said. Dirty. Worldly.”

“Well, you’re still a prize. A prize of the dirty world,” Fori mused as they entered the house he’d gotten for them. Jalane hurried up to see the bedroom and yelped.

“Fori! There’s a body on the floor!”

Fori winced.


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which something important is finally dealt with and three famous characters are introduced! :)

“Fori! I need to talk to you.”

Even in the few months they’d been married, Fori had come to recognize that tone. “Did the Guards come to try arresting me again?” he asked, his voice dripping boredom, as he trudged down the stairs.

“No, I just have to ask a question. Now that I’m your wife...” Jalane’s eyes darkened suddenly, visibly catching Fori off-guard, “I can demand that you tell me what you’ve been doing to yourself.”

“What?” Fori sputtered as she drew closer.

“Your arms,” Jalane announced, seizing one and holding it out for him to see the deep cuts. Fori’s face went crimson. “Why do you do this?” Jalane asked.

Fori jerked his arm away and scowled at her. She matched it with her own and he sighed deeply, pointing to some very old scars on his wrist. “This one is for the father I couldn’t please. This one is for the mother I never had the courage to save until it was too late. This one is for siblings who burned in a fire while I ran. This one is for a triple-murder. This one is for a wife I thought I’d never have. This one is for a house that I thought I wouldn’t be able to get...”

Jalane’s eyes widened. “This is how you deal with stress?”

“Yep. Whenever I think I’m...unworthy, this comes out.” He pulled a certain knife from his belt and showed it to her. Jalane set her jaw, snatched it out of his hand and stomped outside, hurling it into the sky.

“You’ll always be worthy to me,” Jalane snapped as she returned and tugged his sleeve down to cover the scars. “So never do it again, especially not when our kin comes along.”

Fori stared at her for a long moment and then burst out laughing. “Well-played, Laney—what kin?”

“You know. Our _kin_ ,” Jalane clarified with a devious smile.

Fori’s jaw dropped. “How many are you plannin’ on havin’?”

“Oh,” Jalane mused, taking her husband’s hand, “probably just one.”

 

 _Those were the good days_ , Jalane thinks fleetingly as she dashes after her three sons. “Boys! Dori, Nori, Ori, get back here right now!”


End file.
